We've all been there. We are crammed in like sardines. The person in front of us reclines his/her seat back and now their head is in your crotch.
Solution: Smile demurely and with a hushed tone of embarrassment tell the inconsiderate crotch sniffer that you suffer from a spastic gastronomical syndrome that has a name too long to pronounce. Sudden blasts of uncontrollable flatulence will likely escape.
....i bet seat will be up in .02 seconds.
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